Hunted?
by Tyloric
Summary: When you wake up not knowing who you are, life is complicated enough. When you wake up not knowing WHAT you are, life can be hellish. When you make a friend, however, everything just seems to fall into place.
1. Part 1: Behind the Door

_**Hunted?  
**_**By Tyloric**

_AN: I feel a bit of explanation is needed for this fic, I think; nothing major, just a couple points. The zombies in L4D die when they're shot enough times _in any part of the body. _The zombies also appear to feel pain and even bleed when hurt. It is my opinion that the zombies in this universe are still alive, but that the disease sends them into a ferocious frenzy and occasionally causes severe mutations in people. Takes place during 'The Parish', with a few minor plot differences. You'll spot them easily enough. With all that said; enjoy the fic._

***L*4*D*2***

When it happened, Ellis didn't know what to think. It made his (admittedly simple) mind clog up and run in circles.

It started in the Parish. He had gotten separated from the group because of a Smoker; dragged right up on to the roof. But it didn't suck him in and start clawing away like the Smoker's usually did, oh no; this one jumped down into the back alley and kept on pulling. He had landed down on the ground _hard _on his right shoulder and with the searing hot pain of it dislocating. The Smoker's tentacle constricted tightly around his chest, his arms pinned at his sides. It tightened around him, the air being squeezed from his lungs making him unable to even scream. Then the claws came. The Smoker went for his neck, its six inch claws scraping across his tender flesh, hot blood pouring from the wounds.

And then the claws just… _stopped, _and the pressure from the tentacle-like-tongue went slack. Ellis fell forward dazed, confused, and gasping for air. He coughed and coughed, his mind not quite contemplating what was happening anymore; sensory overload. His shoulder was throbbing, the gashes across his shoulders in neck screaming and pulsing blood with each beat of his heart. He has enough sense to grip the tentacle and throw it off him, before he landed face first on the hard concrete. Ellis flipped over, his eyes unfocused.

A couple seconds later, he blinked, and his brain finally rebooted itself. His body had entered survival mode, the pain in his neck and shoulder reduced to a light throb along with a dose of whatever amount of adrenaline it had left to keep him alert, breathing, and alive. He took a (very) deep breath that sounded almost like a sigh when he exhaled, and sat up.

He saw the Smoker right away; it was still towering over him not two feet away. Its mouth was twisted and contorted into unnatural shapes, its skin a pale grey, flaking and pitted and blistering, its tongue still lolling out of its mouth. It was coughing, but it didn't sound normal. Well, normal for a Smoker. It hacked (a sickening wet sound) once, twice, and finally toppled over to the side, landing with a hard _thud. _

On the other side of the building, the sounds of combat could still be heard; gunfire, the angry screams of the infected, and the unmistakable crackle of fire (most likely a Molotov). But Ellis wasn't paying attention to any of that, wasn't even paying attention to his wounds. No, he was paying attention to the Hunter looming above him, blood on its left claw. A grey hood was draped over its head, with those white infected eyes staring at him, looking everywhere and no where all at once.

Terror replaced all other emotions, Ellis' survival instincts taking all priority. He reached to his thigh for his gun… that wasn't there. _Where is it?! _His panicked mind queried. He looked all over the ground, never letting the Hunter leave his field of vision.

A low growl rumbled out of the Hunter's throat, petrifying Ellis, and suddenly he couldn't look away from those white eyes.

The Hunter took a step forward and Ellis flinched, shutting his eyes tight, waiting for the finishing blow, for the pain. But it never came. There was a shuffling noise, and then a clatter as something slid in between his legs. Ellis opened his eyes into a squint, curious despite himself; it was his pistol. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened.

The Hunter had taken a few steps back, and Ellis looked at it dumbly. It made no move to attack, showed no sign that it meant him harm.

"What--?" Ellis began.

"Ellis!" Rochelle from somewhere down the street, near the alleyway. The Hunter took a quick, sharp glance over its shoulder, and made to lunge… right over Ellis. The mechanic craned his neck in time to see it disappear on the other end of the alley, turning into the zombie infested streets. Ellis turned back around and just sat there, dumbfounded.

Then there were arms, Rochelle's, her hands checking him over. He heard voices, and at some point he was dragged to his feet. He was on auto pilot, though, doing only what needed to be done to survive, while the rest of his brain kept playing the scenario over and over in his mind.

They'd asked him: how? He wasn't sure. Was he hurt? Didn't know that either. Eventually they found a safe house, and it wasn't long after that until he had passed out.

***L*4*D*2***

He had woken up sometime in the night, and he was finally aware enough to take in his surroundings. They were in a grocery store; though it was stripped bare. It was one of those small town shops, with only a few (four) rows of goods.

When he'd woken up he'd found that he had somehow made it into a sleeping bag. There had been a (broken) glass of water (which he drank) and some aspirin (which he felt guilty using about and ignored). There were also a couple protein bars which he nearly swallowed whole he was so hungry.

Coach and Rochelle were sleeping behind the counter where an empty register sat, also in their sleeping bags. Nick sat leaned against the counter with a shotgun draped across his chest, and was snoring; he had fallen asleep on his turn for watch. Ellis couldn't blame him, and had (instead of waking him up) moved to the staircase at the front of the store and sat down on it facing the door, pistol in hand.

His body ached, and his shoulder refused to perform the most basic of movements. Lucky for him, being a mechanic, he was used to using _both _of his hands, so he was a pretty good shot with his left.

There was a door at the top of the staircase that led into an apartment style area; the store owner had probably lived there. He didn't have to wonder why they all didn't stay there; down here was closer to the exit, also being that an apartment with plenty of windows offered too many access points to the persistent undead, as well as the many rooms allowed too many hiding places for the uncommon ones; Smokers included.

So he sat there on the staircase, staring at the front door and boarded up windows, thinking, and for nearly an hour that's all he did. He thought about what a survivor of anything would think about; the past (family, friends [Keith in particular]), all the people he'd had to kill, what life might be like if they found a way to get rescued.

And then he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him, and his body reacted instinctively. He jumped up, whirled around, and aimed his pistol at the source and just barely stopped himself from pulling the trigger.

The door to the apartment was open, and standing two steps down was an infected in a grey hoodie, but Ellis recognized it (him?) despite. The Hunter didn't hold himself like a regular infected. A normal infected stumbled around until it caught sight of something to kill, and normal Hunters always kept themselves hidden until they were unable to pounce.

But this one held itself – _him_self – tall, like a normal person, standing straight. His mouth wasn't turned up into a snarl, or anything else threatening. He was just watching Ellis with his unnatural white eyes.

The Hunter raised its arm, which made Ellis nervous enough to lift the gun back up. But then it did something completely unexpected; it waved. Only once, mind you, but the gesture was unmistakable. Lowering the pistol, Ellis waved back. The Hunter's face never betrayed any emotion, kept it completely neutral.

He turned, closed the door, turned back around, and sat, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees. Even though his eyes were completely white, Ellis got the feeling they were staring at him.

Ellis glanced over at Nick, who was still fast asleep, and the sleeping bags behind the counter had yet to stir. _What have I gotten myself into? _Ellis thought, as he climbed the stairs. He hesitated for only a moment, and then sat down next to the Hunter.

"So…" Ellis started nervously, making sure to keep his voice low. "What are you, uh… doing here?"

There was no delay; "Lonely." The Hunter's voice was scratchy, but the fact that it had responded so suddenly and so readily threw the mechanic through a loop.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Wha-? Oh, um, Ellis. Yours?"

This time there was a pause, a long one. "Can't remember."

Ellis frowned. "Nothing? Not who you are?"

The Hunter shook his head. "Woke up… a monster." His hands (claws?) clenched into fists.

Ellis surprised himself by laying a hand on the Hunter's shoulder. He tensed visibly, the infected's entire body clenched up.

"Don't touch me."

Ellis began to stammer out an explanation. "Oh-! I'm sorry, I didn't mean nuthin' by it I just-"

"Not that. Just… a monster. When people touch me… I… want to hurt them." His words were barely above a whisper, and the emotions behind them were clear: this Hunter was ashamed and disgusted at himself. Ellis, being the good natured, home grown southern boy that he is, had to fight back the urge to hug him. But then he felt paranoid about sitting next to him. "Won't hurt you." He said as if he had read Ellis' mind. "Just… try not to touch."

"Ellis?" He heard Nick ask groggily from down stairs. The Hunter jumped to his feet and (amazingly) opened the door, ran through it, and closed it behind himself all without making a sound.

"Who're you talking to?" Nick appeared at the base of the stairs a split second after the door had closed.

Ellis stared at Nick for a few seconds. "Me? No one. You must have been having a dream."

_**~TBC.**_

_AN: This marks part one of what will be, at most, three parts. Reviews are appreciated. This fic was not beta'd._


	2. Part 2: Familiar Sounds, Familiar Voices

_**Hunted?**_  
**By Tyloric**

_Author's notes are located at the end of the chapter. Not beta read; I'm sorry if this turns some people away. _

**Part 2: **  
**Familiar Sounds, Familiar Voices**

He watched the bright red door for the majority of the night, choosing to keep to the darkness of roof tops. It's easiest to hide on roofs. Though they are exposed, you can escape from all directions, and the high vantage point offers superior visibility.

As time wore on, his thoughts become clearer. He'd noticed that. At first it had only been in passing… he would think of something, have an idea, remember something. Awareness had been gradual at first, but now it was absolute. He was aware, and he didn't know if he liked it or not.

Before his actions had been completely instinct; _unaware, _uncaring, a monster. He remembered those actions, now, and they caused him to feel. And none of it felt right.

There was also a face stuck in the foreground of his mind. A girl's face; always there, always watching. She had short blonde hair, emerald eyes, and a haunted, terrified expression. He couldn't remember, however, who she was. Only that she now watched his every move, a constant, silent presence.

There was also something else watching him. He could feel it in the core of his being, and not just watching, _speaking. _Directing him, like a whisper he can't quite hear, but finding he understands its intentions… terrible, horrific intentions.

The red door clanged, drawing his attention. He skirted over to the roof to the other side, crouching, watching. The survivors were awake. The survivors were making their move. Ellis would be with them.

Hopefully he'd be more careful this time.

***L*4*D*2***

There was something about the weight of the gun in his hand that brought him comfort, a sense of security. It was the pistol Ellis had found at the carnival, the one he had used to get a lucky head shot on a Tank that had chased after him as he ran for the helicopter. He had kept it nearby ever since, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Still, it didn't make the task at hand anymore pleasurable.

"Do we _have _to?" He asked again.

"There isn't another way, Ellis." Nick replied.

Ellis frowned. "But it's… dark and… _wet. _And dark."

Nick raised an eyebrow and Rochelle hid a smile behind her hand.

Ellis' frown deepened. He hated dark places, enclosed spaces. It had always been a phobia of his. To many late nights and monster movies during his younger years, a guilty pleasure these days. Still, he sighed in resignation. "Fine." He pouted.

Coach took point, going down first. "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary; It smells like a dogs butt down here." Ellis laughed and quickly tried to cover it up with a cough. "A lots of bodies down here." Coach followed up. His laugh died quickly.

Nick went next. "As if my suit wasn't fucked up enough…" he muttered on his way down.

Ellis and Rochelle shared a look. The mechanic smiled. "Ladies first." He quipped. She rolled her eyes and started on down the ladder.

Ellis felt the ache of his wounds from the previous day creeping up on him, the pain killers finally starting to wear off. He stared down into the darkness, and could already feel it closing in around him. He took a deep breath and held it, and placed his feet on the first of the bars.

One step… two… three…

The slight sound of the metal groaning was Ellis' only warning before the bar his feet were on gave way. He yelped as his hands instinctively tightened their grip at the sudden downward motion. He recovered his footing quick enough, but now the adrenaline was pumping, making him even more paranoid than before.

"You okay?" Ro asked from below.

It took him a few seconds before he felt steady enough to reply. "Y-yeah, I'm good." The rest of the journey to the bottom was uneventful.

"Dark…" he mumbled, flicking his flashlight on and taking up his pistol.

They picked off the normal infected with no trouble. It was the smell that made the most impression. Not just the sewage, the purification. Apparently someone had had the idea that dumping the bodies of casualties, not just the infected, down there was a good idea; a sound theory.

Fatal in execution, however; in the sewers, the infected can't be contained. They had easy access to the entire city. New Orleans never stood a chance.

The survivors made their way down the sewers slowly and carefully, inching around corners, picking off the infected as they came across them. Each gunshot echoed eerily, as each shot was met with the enraged howl of an infected somewhere deeper in the pipes.

They found their way up purely by accident. An uncovered manhole in the middle of a wide opening, the sunlight shining down like a spotlight.

"Praise the _lord._" Ellis moaned out.

They exited in the order came down. When it came Ellis' turn, he stepped eagerly onto the ladder.

The Smoker's tongue came shooting out of the darkness behind him, wrapping around his midsection. "Oh, son of a bi-" Was all he manged to say before being dragged backwards through the murky sewer water.

But as quickly as it had happened, it ended. He sat up, removing the now limp organ from his person.

"Should be more careful." A voice said from beneath the veil of darkness. "Watch your back more."

Surprisingly, Ellis wasn't alarmed. Only irritated. "Yeah, thanks for that. Again."

"Ellis? Where are you man?" Nick's voice echoed through the sewers.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He called back.

"See you later." The voice said, almost like it was amused and a half second later the sloshing of foot steps fading away.

***L*4*D*2***

Ellis used to enjoy nighttime. The stars... but not anymore. Now the night was filled with the unnatural sounds of the infected.

The other three were fast asleep; Ellis was on guard duty. Just as well, really, he couldn't sleep. He wounds ached from the days adventures, mainly sewer water getting in them. When they had found the safe room, Rochelle had covered them in peroxide soaked rags. It didn't hurt much, but Christ did it itch like a mother.

"Ellis." the voice was faint.

He blinked. "Hello?"

There was a light rapping on the door they had left clear, yet bolted, in case they needed to make a quick get away. "Hello?" Ellis repeated to the steel frame.

"Hi."

Realization came quickly. "Hunter dude?"

"Yes."

Ellis relaxed a bit, and leaned back against the wall. he had been resting against.

"Your friends okay?" The Hunter asked quietly.

"Yeah, we're fine."

A silence fell between them, a comfortable one, a silence that only friends can share. _Friends, _Ellis grinned.

"It's cold tonight." The Hunter said.

"Yeah." More silence.

"...remembered something today."

The mechanic raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? Anything interesting?"

"Don't know. Just a face."

"Whose?"

"Don't know." He repeated, somewhat sadly. "It's a girl."

"Someone you knew, maybe?"

"Guess so. She's familiar. Just can't... remember anything else."

Ellis waited a few seconds. "Isn't it dangerous out there? For you?"

"No. They ignore me. All of them. Like I don't exist... makes me lonely sometimes."

"Sorry."

"Not your problem."

Ellis made a face, pity the Hunter couldn't see it. "Yeah it is."

On the other side of the door, the Hunter tensed.

"We're friends, right? Friends... look after each other." He glanced at the slumbering figures on the other side of the room and a smile spread widely across his face. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Guess so."

The silence came back. It was curious, really, separated yet so close to one another.

"You should sleep." The Hunter said suddenly.

It was then Ellis noticed how exhausted he was. "Yeah, probably."

"Will try to make sure their aren't many of them near the door in morning."

"Thanks." But he was already gone. Ellis sat there for a few more moments and then moved to wake up Coach.

**_~tbc._**

_AN: As I was writing this chapter, I hit quite a few... blocks. You see, I'm not that great at action, or details. My writing style (as I'm sure you've all noticed by now) is very minimal; I give the reader what they need to progress, and usually nothing more. That's part of the reason why this took so long; I was stepping way out of my element. So then I figured, why not try writing it in a way that I am comfortable with? Mainly, Ellis and our Hunter friend; this story is about them after all. Once I decided to focus on them, and only them, I found that this was a much easier process. It ended up being a bit shorter than I had wanted, but overall I'm happy with it. I hope everyone has enjoyed it, and hopefully part three (and, it's looking like, part four) don't take nearly as long._

_Fun fact, I nearly made this slash. Nearly._


	3. Part 3: Not of Your World

_**Hunted?  
**_**By Tyloric**

_This part is short, but I think it wraps things up nicely. Thanks to everyone who cheered me on during the writing of this story! It's been a blast._

**Part 3  
Not of Your World**

The hunter was waiting on top of the bridge, just inside the raised bridge. He had taken refuge behind two cars that were parked side by side. A corpse leaning on one cars horns had had made the car honk until the infected had ripped it literally to pieces.

The thought came in passing, like a thought that is, or was once, common place. One he didn't even acknowledge until quite a few seconds later; Cole. Cole… his name was Cole.

"Cole," he said, letting it roll on his tongue. It felt right, it felt familiar, and he knew it was true. His name was Cole… His name was Cole! He had remembered it!

He smiled despite himself.

"Boy, we are immune as _shit!_" Coach's irritated voice yelled, pulling the hunter, Cole, from his thoughts. This was it. He had seen the other humans on the other side of the bridge loading the plane, preparing for takeoff. Cole had known the moment he saw it that this was the only way _his _humans, as he had come to think of them, would escape. Ellis was the only one who knew about him, but it didn't matter. He had been protecting all of them. He'd be damned if they died after coming this far.

**L4D2**

They were making their way down the bridge slower than any of them would have liked. They shot at the infected as they came from both sides of the bridge, growling, snarling, doing what a normal infected does. They were thirsty for blood.

"Reloading!" Ellis shouted over the chaos.

"Me too!" followed Rochelle.

He felt it around his leg, but he was ready this time. Ellis grabbed the katana from his back and swiped at the Smoker's tongue before it could even pull. "Fuck you," he snarled, shooting at it with his reloaded pistol, followed by a large puff of black toxic smoke.

"Ellis!" a different voice shouted. _Hunter, _Ellis identified in a hurry.

He swirled around and almost bumped right in to his hunter friend, "You need to pay more attention," he said, "Your friends have already left."

Ellis blinked, then scoffed, "_I _need to pay attention!? _They _need to pay attention!" He shouted, trying to push past the hunter.

"One more thing," the Hunter said as Ellis started to walk away, "My name is Cole."

The mechanic stopped in his track, "You remembered?"

Cole smiled to Ellis' back, "No time to chat, Ellis. You need to get a move on."

"Yeah, Right."

**L4D2**

"Grrraahhh!" The tank roared one last time, falling to its knees in a pool of blood.

"Almost out of ammo," Ellis panted, his legs feeling like jelly. He took the adrenaline shot out of his pocket and tossed it over to Nick, who was about to keel over.

"Me too," Rochelle gasped, falling to her knees. "I don't know if I can make it."

"Hey now," Ellis started, "There'll be none of that talk, not when we're close." At that moment, a duffle bag landed at Ellis' feet, "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, surprised. "Who did that?"

Coach blinked. "Not me."

Nick shook his head, "Me neither."

Which left only one possibility, "Show off…" Ellis murmured.

Inside the duffle bag was ammo for each of their weapons.

**L4D2**

They were running now, running as fast as they could, which wasn't terribly fast after all they had been through.

"A little further, just a little further," He kept panting over and over. He fired at the infected as they rushed them. Gunfire, grenades, Molotov's, that was what they were; a wrecking ball of infected destruction, mowing them down to reach their goal.

A hunter pounced on him, tearing at his back, "Fucking-!"

Cole pounced back, pushing the other hunter from Ellis' body.

"Go!" Cole shouted.

"Thanks!" Ellis shouted, coaxing the other survivors to continue.

**L4D2**

Ellis stopped at the base of the planes ramp, turning when he felt a presence. Cole stood just behind him, looking very content. He had a long, seeping wound on his left cheek. It had to be painful.

"Come with us!" Ellis shouted over the roar of the engines.

Cole smiled, shaking his head, "There is no place for me where you're going."

"But-!"

"This _is _my world now. The only thing I can do is help others escape it."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the three unsure of how to react. Cole couldn't blame them. A talking infected? He still had trouble with the thought.

Ellis stepped down the ramp, and wrapped his arms around Cole, "Thank you."

Cole returned the embrace quickly, and pushed Ellis away, "Go."

Ellis hesitantly made his way back inside the carrier, looking over his shoulder as the storage closed, "Don't die on me!" he yelled as it closed. Cole smiled again.

The hunter, once human, turned around to face the world he was now a part of.

They never saw each other again, after that.

~fin.


End file.
